Just For A Moment
by Moonbutton
Summary: A moment is all it takes to pass up an opportunity - or to take one
1. one

Prologue  
  
She felt at the small of her back, fingers making contact with the reassuring lump of metal holstered there. Her hand hovered on it for a second or two until she dismissed the urge to draw her weapon; there were too many people present to risk such a manouevre, besides doing so would break her momentum. She brought her arm back to her side, to join its opposite in a steady rythym, as she pounded the streets.   
  
She concentrated on the figure ahead, an image ingrained into her memory through repetition. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to ascertain how far behind Sydney was but she couldn't see him, the throng of tourists that she had brusquely parted seemed to close back together as soon as she was through. She cursed under her breath for not bringing a team of sweepers instead as she pushed rudely through another group of middle aged Europeans, who were content to saunter along at a snail's pace. At least the sweepers would have kept up with her.   
  
She paced on doggedly, the figure in the distance never getting any further away but not getting any closer either - his good nature no doubt causing him to be less effective at shoving people aside. She could imagine him muttering apologies as he breezed past - in stark contrast to herself.   
  
She hadn't expected to run into her prey; it was a long shot, one she thought they would be too late for. One of Broots' routine checks had brought up this hit and dragged them six thousand miles back to Scotland. She had been as shocked as Jarod when they'd locked eyes outside his hotel. His instinct had been to run - hers had been to chase, just as she'd assured him the last time they had spoken almost three months before.  
  
So they'd ran. Through streets laden down with tourists and workers. Across roads swamped with taxis, cars, and sightseeing buses. Down alleyways littered with small, over priced, specialised shops. They'd ran through some kind of park, over the green hills where office workers and tourists alike had staked a spot to enjoy the unusually warm Spring day. The cultural heritage of the city passed her by, as did the history that could be absorbed with every sense if one were to just pause for a moment or two. She could have been in any city in the world because the only thing she really saw was the outline of her prey up ahead.   
  
She wasn't sure how far they'd run, or even if they were going in circles. From the brief glances she'd taken of her surroundings she couldn't be quite sure that they weren't back in the same position they'd started from. Maybe Syd had had the right idea. She wasn't beginning to tire just yet, though Jarod would usually have made his escape by this point, vanishing into the ether like the chameleon he was. She was just starting to wonder if he was deliberately playing with her when they reached what appeared to be a major road. Traffic buzzed across the four lanes at a quicker pace and she could see that Jarod had already made his way across two of the lanes, taking advantage of the traffic signals, and coming to a pause on the central reservation which comprised of a raised concrete verge about a metre in width. The flow of the traffic over the first two lanes made it impossible for her to follow him, it was just too heavy. However the final two lanes were clear, the oncoming traffic stopped at a red light and she knew he had the advantage he needed to disappear.  
  
Usually that's what would have happened, Jarod would have gained an extra few seconds on her. Enough time to disappear, to be swallowed up by the crowds and she'd have went home disappointed one more time. That's how it should have ended, that's how it usually ended. He ran, she chased. He went free, she remained trapped. But whichever deity had been looking out for Jarod the last five years must have been looking the other way.  
  
She slowed down as she approached the roadside, eyes locked on the back of Jarod's head. She watched him step out onto the empty road in front of him - she knew that he was getting away and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She briefly glanced at the traffic whizzing by in front of her, debating taking a risk but quickly discarding the idea. When she brought her eyes back up he was looking at her. He was almost to the other side of the road, that cocky grin taking up residence on his face. She sighed deeply, the anger that would normally have raged within her at coming so close failed to ignite. Before she had time to analyse that particular occurence real life intervened.  
  
She saw the car first, from the corner of her eye. Jarod must have read something in her features, as he moved his head slightly, eyes tracking her gaze. Time seemed to run so slowly from that point and nothing else around her seemed to exist any more. She could only stand there and watch as the scene played out. He couldn't avoid the car, she knew that. Despite all his skills as a pretender, even he didn't have enough time or fast enough reactions to escape, but she found herself silently willing him to move anyway.  
  
She couldn't close her eyes to the inevitable, something she failed to identify compelled her to watch and she found herself surprised by his actions. He turned his eyes back to her, locking once more on hers. That grin, the one she had wanted to wipe off his face for so long, had gone, instead he smiled at her; the same smile that would light his features when she snuck down to see him in the bowels of The Centre as a child. His eyes bore into hers with such intensity; even from the distance she could see there was no fear in those brown pools, and what lay there stuck in her throat. Such expressive eyes, he could always say so much with them and she'd had opportunity to witness a range of emotions - but never like this. All she could do was stare back, unable to breathe, her face frozen though she wanted desperately to return the gesture. It felt like minutes though she knew in reality it was no more than a fleeting moment. The car finally made contact, the sickening crunch ringing in her ears and feeling like a blow to her stomach. Time reverted to its usual speed. 


	2. two

i) Thanks to ICD, mfkngst, leochick, and Grace for leaving a review - greatly appreciated. Now, would I kill Jarod? Me? ; )  
  
ii) For all of March and most of April I had neither the time nor the inclination to write (thanks must go to my employer) and things have only improved slightly, so I can't promise prompt updates... Sorry. Anyway, on with the show...  
  
The journey had been unbearable. What had been no more than seven or eight minutes, at the most ten, had felt like an hour. Every red light fell unfairly, he thought, against him, though in all probability it was likely that the black cab had sailed through just as many green ones. The driver, no doubt sensing it wise, had forgone the usual patter metered out to passengers, especially tourists. That had left Sydney partitioned off in the rear, with nothing to do except alternate his attention between his wrist watch and the red figures of the cab's meter which ticked over at regular intervals. And to imagine the worst.  
  
He had stumbled across the aftermath of the collision, some fifteen to twenty minutes after the event and had known instantly that Jarod and Parker had been involved. Casual enquiries with both those witnesses who were still present, and the police themselves, had seemed to confirm this. By insinuating to the police that his 'daughter' may have been involved he had uncovered the basics of what had occurred and, crucially, the location of both Jarod and Miss Parker. Once inside the hospital he used the same line, allowing him to be taken straight to his young colleague.  
  
A nurse, her badge identifying her as Staff Nurse White, had given a sympathetic smile as she informed him that Parker was alone in the relative's room, having refused any offers of company. Sydney had nodded understandingly, pasting fatherly concern onto his features with ease as he'd let the nurse, a middle aged, plump woman in her mid forties, guide him towards Parker.  
  
Now alone outside the room, having thanked the nurse profusely until she'd taken the hint to leave, he took a deep breath and arranged his thoughts. He cautiously entered the homely looking room, slowly taking in its contents. A small rectangular table took precedence in the centre of the room, a sofa placed at each of its longer sides. A smaller table, this one square, was tucked into the corner of the room against the far wall, a plant of some description perched upon it. Parker stood next to the smaller table, gazing out of the room's only window and made no reaction to his entrance. He shut the door quietly behind him and edged slowly towards her, stopping a metre or so away from her as she finally spoke.  
  
"He's in surgery."  
  
Her voice was even, emotionless. She kept her back to him, shoulders slumped, one hand raised playing nervously at her mouth, the other arm wrapped across her stomach. He felt a stab of sadness as his thoughts returned to Jarod, that he could do nothing to help the younger man at this moment only exacerbated those feelings. He wallowed in that thought for a moment or two before shaking it off.   
  
He turned his gaze from the back of Parker's head to the view she was staring at. The window led out onto the tiny grounds of the hospital and, despite the sunny nature of the weather, he found it a rather depressing sight. Looking into the glass he could see the tiny room reflected in all its splendour, the harsh clinical lights making it possible, and he could see the sad figure of Miss Parker. "What happened?" he asked, meeting her eyes in the reflection. Her taut features bounced back at him and she looked paler than he could ever remember.  
  
"Some asshole thought red meant go," she replied, returning his gaze. The hand that had been vertical rejoined its partner, laying across her stomach almost as if she was hugging herself.  
  
Though her voice remained even, this time he could just about hear the undertide of emotions bubbling within her, but those steely blue eyes demanded he probe no deeper. He kicked himself for even thinking, when he had first encountered the scene of the accident, that it was she who had hurt Jarod - she was clearly affected by what had occurred. He ignored the warning glare, "Miss Parker," he began as he closed the gap between them and placed a hand on her shoulder, "are you okay?"  
  
She shrugged off his hand immediately, straightening her back and shoulders as she did so, still meeting his gaze in the window. "I wasn't hurt," she replied icily, "Unlike boy genius I know how to cross a road safely." She folded her arms under her chest, completing the stance.  
  
He never ceased to wonder at how quickly the coldness settled on her, the invisible barrier raising automatically; yet her eyes gave her away, a flash of pain had dimmed those brilliant blue orbs for the briefest of moments.   
  
He'd witnessed something similar not so long ago when he'd attempted to talk to her about her father, about the events on the island. She'd been adamant then too but he'd always made it clear to her that she could speak to him privately if she wished - an offer she had not taken up. "I don't mean physically," he said gently.   
  
She snorted lightly and shook her head, "I knew I should have brought Sam."  
  
He smiled wearily, "And risk Lyle, and The Centre, knowing where you were going?" Lyle had taken to watching them all closely, especially his sister. There had been a drought in sightings of the elusive pretender and his protege had not been in contact for some time. Broots' hit on Jarod had come through late afternoon, by the nightfall they were on a plane over the Atlantic - there'd been no time to acquire Sam without raising suspicion.  
  
She turned to face him, that cool exterior still firmly in place. "I'm fine," she muttered, finally answering his questions but her tone warning him that that particular line of conversation was over.  
  
Sydney watched silently as she brushed by him to take a seat on one of the plush sofas and away from his scrutiny. He continued to observe her reflection in the window. Despite her facade he still felt she was perturbed. From what little he'd gathered it seemed she had witnessed the whole thing and had travelled with Jarod in the ambulance to the hospital. Facing the prospect of losing someone else in her life must have shook her deeply. An idea began to form in his head. He briefly considered letting the subject matter drop but he figured there might never be such an opportune time to speak to her candidly - if she would speak to him at all.   
  
"And The Centre?", he asked, his back still to her, and trying a different approach. For someone who was determined to return Jarod to The Centre, and had spent five years trying to achieve this goal, she was remarkably subdued. Even if, Heaven forbid, Jarod did not make it through she would still have fulfilled her objective. She should have been ecstatic.  
  
There was a long silence before she replied, as if she hadn't even considered The Centre. "What about them?" she asked quietly, staring ahead at the wall.   
  
He turned to face Parker, "Have you updated them on the situation?" He asked the question as neutrally as he could.  
  
There was another stretch of slience. "No," she whispered softly.   
  
Sydney couldn't stop a small smile from gracing his lips, though he doubted she noticed the action as she seemed intent on staring anywhere else but at him. A small kernel of hope sprung at her reply and pieces of the puzzle, pieces that were now well worn and familiar through his constant appraisal of them, seemed like they may actually fall into place.  
  
"He won't be going anywhere for a while," she added, and he let the smile fade, wondering if she had seen him after all.  
  
She sounded so fragile, her voice barely above a whisper, and she seemed so small, the sofa almost swamped her. Sydney walked silently to the sofa opposite to her and sat down, forcing her to look into his eyes. "The sooner Jarod is back at The Centre, the sooner you can have your freedom Miss Parker," he ventured carefully, trying to fit a particularly difficult piece of the puzzle into position.  
  
She stared wordlessly at him again, as if she was struggling with every word she said and each one had to be chosen so very carefully. "Sounds like you can't wait to have your little lab rat back," she began, "And I always thought you were helping him to stay free."   
  
There was no venom in her voice but he caught the flash in her eyes, the uncertainty as she spoke. "I want Jarod back at The Centre as much as you do Miss Parker," he urged softly. He had said something similar to her once before when she had questioned his motives; at that time, as now, he believed it was a truthful statement. He'd observed her closely over the years and though she disguised it well, Sydney felt she struggled with her assignment, as much as he himself did, and also, to a greater extent, with her feelings for Jarod.   
  
"Do you?" she asked hesitantly, after another long pause.  
  
"Yes," he answered with a smile. He would have to take the first step, else they could go on all night and never actually get to the point, endlessly beating around the bush, both unwilling to confess and sticking steadfastedly to their roles. He sat forward slightly, still keeping her gaze, "Miss Parker, I don't want to be the one responsible for taking Jarod back to The Centre... and I strongly suspect you don't want to be either." He subconsciously held his breath as she scrutinised him closely. The room fell silent once more and with each passing second he began to doubt himself. Her features were blank yet her eyes once more revealed a deeper battle.  
  
"Syd..." she began but her words tailed off, broken down by emotion as she failed to keep such things in check, but he suspected she had been on the cusp of denying his observations. Her eyes dropped to the floor, to the bland carpet underneath the table that no doubt held the tears of many a distraught relative condemned to receive devastating news about their loved ones in a room that was painfully inadequate.   
  
"Miss Parker?" he prompted, as silence began to fill the room.  
  
"I should take you both back," she whispered weakly, still staring at the carpet. It was an empty threat, a knee jerk reaction to the vague feelings of loyalty to The Centre, and to her father, that clung on.  
  
"You should do what you feel is best," Sydney offered sincerely, noting that she had not denied anything.  
  
She drew her eyes back towards him and he watched her trying in vain to compose herself, to become the Ice Queen, only there was something else present - that flash of turmoil. "I..." she began hesitantly, and just for a moment it seemed as though she was on the verge of speaking openly, only to be interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed swiftly by the reappearance of Nurse White. 


	3. three

i) Huge thanks to mfkngst, Nancy, pretender-gurl, Michelle, ICD, Ann and leochick for reviewing the last part.  
  
She watched his reflection as he stared into the bottom of his cup and breathed out slowly in an effort to think clearly, looking away as she did so. Sadly it wasn't as easy as that, she could not shake the day's events, or the arising emotions, - no matter how tightly she screwed her eyes shut the same images played out in front of her, burnt into her memory and constantly reminding her of what had occurred. And distracting her, so much so that she'd almost opened up to Sydney.   
  
Sydney's admission had caught her off guard, at a time when she wasn't feeling so certain about anything; it wasn't that she never suspected he had other motives regarding Jarod's capture, it was that he had come out and said as much. Granted, saying such things away from the prying ears and eyes of The Centre was sensible but it was the fact that he saw right through her, that he somehow knew how she was feeling, that unsettled her most. Not even her father had been so perceptive. Then again, she had never been able to act as freely around her father as she did with Sydney. She was always on guard around him, trying to be the daughter he wanted her to be rather than being herself. And now the game that she had played out with Sydney, the one in which they never spoke the truth, instead letting it linger between them unspoken for so long, had changed. The question had to be, was she ready to change as well?  
  
The answer seemed simple: the decision to talk to Syd as a friend, once made, had felt right. Of course she'd hesitated; she'd fought the little voice in her head pressing her to deny everything, had swallowed down the churning sensation in her stomach, had closed her ears to the rush of blood swirling around her body as her heart had pounded furiously in her chest, and her mouth had ran as dry as a desert. As Sydney had cautiously probed her she'd felt she as if she was teetering on a cliff edge, and she could have fallen either way. It had seemed a long way down yet in the end she willingly jumped - only to be pulled back before her feet had barely left the ground. But now the moment was lost and she could feel herself slowly reneging on that decision. If she didn't do something soon it would be lost forever.  
  
Her eyes flickered to Sydney again, he was still staring blankly into his cup, thoughts obviously elsewhere. Her own cup sat untouched on the table in front of him, the murky brown liquid inside - almost the same colour as the plastic vending machine cup that held it - offered no appeal. The nurse had returned with the drinks ('sweet tea', she'd announced with a warm smile) and Parker couldn't fault the woman's impeccable sense of timing, as yet again fate had conspired, in an uncanny way, to prevent her wandering down a different path.   
  
Nurse White had been unable, or unwilling, to offer any further news on Jarod than she had when she'd ushered Parker into the poky little room a half an hour or so ago. Parker had vacated her seat when that became apparent, mercilessly leaving Sydney to bear the brunt of the woman's attention. She couldn't face another emotional inquest and she'd begun to wonder why she had told the paramedics, and therefore the hospital staff, that she was Jarod's wife. Kneeling at Jarod's side, her hands clasped around one of his, the words had tumbled out before she could stop them when the female paramedic had gently tried to prise her away from Jarod's frighteningly still body.   
  
She'd returned to her position at the window, keeping her back to the other occupants of the room and thought once more about Jarod. And the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd smiled at her. She knew Sydney was thinking of Jarod too. He'd questioned the nurse further to no avail, eventually dismissing her with more manners than Parker could have managed, but his concern was evident. She tried to hold on to the fact that the medical staff were being overly cautious about Jarod's condition; she tried to believe he'd be okay, that the car had not been travelling fast enough but then the image would filter once more into her thoughts, her stomach would jolt and the optimism would crumble, much as Jarod had done when the car had struck him.  
  
She swallowed hard at such recollections, wondering how long they would plague her, and, if the worst did happen to Jarod, how long would she wake in the middle of the night choked up with regrets. And that was the crux of her distress; he had smiled at her as if the last five years hadn't happened, as if she hadn't pushed him away at every opportunity, as if she had never brandished her gun at him, as if she'd never turned away from him all those years ago as children and left him alone with the shadows of The Centre. But she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to surrender to her feelings; talking to Sydney was the easy part, acting upon her feelings scared the life out of her.  
  
"I don't know what to do Sydney."  
  
She watched him slowly stir from his thoughts, rejuvenated by the sound of her voice. He turned to look at her, his eyes searching for hers in the window's reflection and a weak smile gracing his features. He studied her for a brief moment, "Don't you?"  
  
She turned to face him, meeting those warm eyes once more as she did so. "I've spent five years chasing him and this is probably the best chance I'll ever have to take him back," she began honestly, "But I can't." She wrapped her arms around her stomach, willing the last vestige of self doubt that lurked there to disappear.  
  
She watched his smile widen briefly as she finally confirmed his suspicions, "You don't have to Miss Parker. No one knows where we are except Broots..."  
  
"It's not that," she whispered quietly, stopping him in his tracks.  
  
He cocked his head slightly to one side, eyes registering disbelief as her simple statement took effect. If the circumstances had been better she may have smiled at his response, at having seemingly thrown him off track. He didn't utter a word; if he knew where she was going with this, and she felt sure he did, he didn't let on, instead he waited patiently for her to continue.  
  
She took a long deep breath, this time there was no doubt, no voice stopping her, there was only the desire to confide in someone. And the realisation that it was time to be honest with herself because this had been eating her up from inside for too long. "He smiled at me. We both knew what was going to happen, there was nothing that he could do, but he stood there and smiled at me." She paused, taking another deep breath as the memory played out once more. And still Sydney remained silent. "Just for a moment I saw everything so clearly. There was no Centre, no games, no devil's handshake, no Daddy to please; there was just Jarod." She exhaled slowly, her eyes searching Sydney's for a reaction, for understanding.  
  
Sydney silently placed his cup down on the table, turning slightly in his seat as he did so. "It seems as if you know exactly what to do." His voice was soft, reassuring; there was no anger, no words of disappointment and not for the first time she wished her father could have been more like the man with her now.  
  
She hugged herself tighter despite his warm words, "What if it's too late?" As the paramedics had tended to Jarod at the roadside that nauseating thought had first crept into her mind. She was going to lose someone else in her life without ever telling them how she felt. She was going to lose Jarod.  
  
Sydney sat straighter in his seat, leaning towards her, "Jarod's a fighter Miss Parker, he's not going to give up so easily." He smiled warmly at her and she couldn't decide if he was trying to convince himself or her. "There are too many things he has yet to experience," he added with a knowing twinkle in his eye.   
  
She shook her head sadly, unable to share his outlook. And unable to believe what she had seen in Jarod's eyes. "He asked me to make this decision before... When we were on the island."   
  
Sydney nodded understandingly as certain occurences suddenly became a lot clearer in light of her confession.  
  
She closed her eyes, remembering how he had taken her hand in his, trying to reach her, asking her to take a different path only for the image to be superceded by another, more recent event forcing her to jerk open her eyes and swallow the lump in her throat. "But I couldn't... I was too afraid." Her voice was now beginning to betray her emotions, but she found herself past caring.   
  
"Of disappointing your father," he speculated gently.  
  
She nodded her head sadly. Her father hadn't approved of Tommy, Jarod would have been, in his opinion, the ultimate low. From the age of twelve, just as puberty was setting in and her father had become more aware of her trips to see Jarod, she'd been indoctrinated with the concept of Centre property and the position she held - or was to hold - at The Centre.  
  
"And I was afraid of my feelings for Jarod," she admitted slowly, as much to herself as to Sydney. Ever since she had agreed to lead the retrieval of Jarod she'd had to ignore all irrational thoughts about him, pushing them, and him, away to somewhere deeper down. At times he made that easy to do, but every now and then he made it damn near impossible - and those times were the hardest to bear, but she would have accepted such a fate if the alternative meant losing him altogether.   
  
"You shouldn't be afraid of your feelings Miss Parker," he edged carefully, his face the picture of compassion. "And you should hang on with every fibre of your being to those you care about, even if that means leaving everything familiar behind." There was a knowing tone in his voice that didn't go unmissed.  
  
"What if I've lost him?" she trailed off, her eyes darting away from Sydney's as she felt the tears threatening to spill - this conditioned reflex one last homage to the Ice Queen.  
  
Though she would no longer meet his gaze he still kept his eyes on her. "This isn't the time to give in, this is the time to fight; for your freedom, for the life that you, and Jarod, deserve. Please don't end up like me. I gave up too easily, I never questioned anything I was told. But you - you have spirit Miss Parker, you deserve to be free. Don't give up on him or yourself."  
  
She nodded meekly, still unable to look at him, "I can't lose him, Syd," she choked out. From the corner of her eye, and through the wall of opaque tears that lay there, she watched Sydney quickly rise and walk towards her. In the two or three steps it took to reach her she'd already let the tears begin to fall, "I can't lose him Syd," she managed to repeat before she felt him wrap his arms around her.   
  
She let herself sink into his embrace, her tears staining his jacket, as he whispered soothing words to her. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying but just the sound of his voice was enough. One hand rubbed her back in a comforting manner as she finally released months, if not years, of pent up emotion. 


	4. four

i) Massive thanks to mfkngst, Ruby Trinity, piscesmarch, leochick, Insert Witty Name Here, QueenTrione, and ICD for reviewing the last chapter, I really do appreciate your comments.  
  
Miss Parker, or Mrs Dawson as she was known to the nurses, stared at Jarod's inert body. He was as deathly still as he had been at the roadside. He seemed so lifeless yet his warm hand, sandwiched between her own, belied this. The steady rise and fall of his chest, along with the gentle hum of machinery attached to him, was further proof - and she soaked it all up. The thoughts that had plagued her for hours, thoughts in which she'd feared she'd been left alone, abated. She studied his face intently, willing him to consciousness, noting a cluster of small cuts and scrapes which, along with his leg encased in plaster, were the only visible signs of the days events.  
  
She held on to his hand, so large compared to her own, the skin not rough yet not quite smooth either. She wondered about the skin on his face, whether the texture would be the same but she couldn't find the courage to run her hand down one cheek and find out.   
  
The gesture wouldn't have seemed untoward by the hospital staff, they were fully taken in by her duplicity though in all honesty they had good reason - she had not given them any reason to think she did not care deeply about the man she had passed off as her husband, or that she was anything other than greatly distressed by what had happened. Nurse White, whose timing it seemed was never anything other than impeccable, had again interloped on a tender moment between Parker and Sydney, and the 'truth' was set in stone.  
  
Parker wasn't sure how long she had stood there, in that poky little box of a room, safely wrapped in Sydney's arms; like earlier in the day time lost all meaning though on this occasion it seemed to disappear all too quickly. When her tears had eventually subsided she'd let Sydney gently manoeuvre her over to one of the sofas, where he had produced a handkerchief and had lovingly dried her tears. She'd watched him in fascination as the boundaries between them, the walls she had built, fell down and they both knew there was no going back. Tears dried, he'd taken one of her hands in his, a small smile on his lips, and asked her what she wanted to do.  
  
It may have been at this point that she'd made her decision, or it may have been earlier; either way it was at this juncture that she'd actually voiced such thoughts out loud. Sydney, smiling wider, had squeezed her hand at her reply, his pleasure obvious and had launched into a possible outcome for her. As he had said earlier, only Broots knew where either of them where and his complicity could be relied upon. The simplicity of the plan astounded her: she just wouldn't return with Sydney. He would contact Broots and set about constructing a completely different version of events, in an entirely different location. Sydney would spin some line about her making further enquiries then feign ignorance when it became apparent she wasn't coming back. She had questioned the validity of such a plan, and the danger to both him and Broots, but Sydney had simply squeezed her hand once more, assuring her everything would be okay. And she somehow felt it would be, Sydney knew how to survive The Centre.   
  
In truth she was more concerned about her side of the plan; they still did not know at that point how badly injured Jarod was, and more worryingly she did not know if Jarod's offer still stood. The way he had smiled at her, the way he had looked at her, she wanted to believe it did but a part of her fretted that he would shrug her off and she'd have left everything else in her life behind for nothing. Sydney, still reading her like a book, had not missed this and had reassured her as best he could, his gentle persuasion (and she wasn't sure how he could be so certain when she herself wasn't) finally won through.   
  
Plan agreed, she'd tentatively asked one last favour of her colleague: to wait with her until they heard more about Jarod. If the news had been the worst possible she wasn't sure how she would get through alone. Sydney had quickly agreed, no doubt just as anxious to hear about the pretender as she was, and, feeling as though there were no more taboos with him, she'd leant across to kiss him on the cheek, an action which made him smile all the more. She'd leant into him, seeking his comfort once more. He hadn't hesitated to wrap his arms around her again and that was how Nurse White, surgeon in tow, had found them some time later.  
  
Jarod, out of surgery, had been moved to a side room. They were quietly optimistic, the tall blond surgeon had announced, surgery had gone well, and Jarod seemed out of danger. After a brief chat with the surgeon, mostly conducted by Sydney as Parker had sat back relieved, thoughts elsewhere and only half listening to the medic list Jarod's injuries, they were left once more with Nurse White who had offered to take them to see Jarod - an offer they both swiftly accepted. That was where her acquaintance with the nurse ended, now on another ward there was no need for the older woman to remain in contact with Parker, and for some reason she missed the woman. She was replaced by an impossibly young woman, whose efficiency only just convinced Parker that she was indeed old enough to be qualified.  
  
Sydney had stayed for a while, had remained at Jarod's side whilst she had used the washroom to tidy up her appearance, but had eventually, almost reluctantly, left. It had felt strange saying goodbye to the older man just as they were beginning to develop a closer friendship and she wished she hadn't waited so long to do just that. There had been a final hug and he had made her promise to let him know, albeit as discretely as possible, how she and Jarod were doing. Once more she'd marvelled at his confidence because she still didn't quite believe it herself.   
  
Then there'd been only her and Jarod; all she could do was wait for him to come round and to wonder, now that the moment of truth was imminent, if she still had any chance with him. After all it had been a long hard winter since she'd last spoken to him - had she left it too late. She thought again about running her hand down his cheek and started to reach over, only to stop midway, retracting her hand and placing it in her lap. Her other hand remianed with his, a gesture she felt was safer, one she could pass off as an offer of friendship. The absurdity of the situation didn't escape her; she'd admitted to herself how she felt about him, something she'd denied herself, and Jarod, for too long, yet she didn't want to let herself fall completely in case she'd been mistaken. In case the truth was that she'd pushed him away one too many times. In case he'd moved on.  
  
It was now dark outside, the Spring day had come abruptly to an end, seemingly before its time. But there was nowhere else she'd rather be, certainly not back in Blue Cove. She didn't realise at first that his hand had moved; she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it and her eyes flickered to his face, expecting to see him wide awake. His eyes remained shut but this time she definitely felt his fingers brush against hers. "Jarod?" she spoke softly, a smile riding her lips and her stomach swirling in anticipation of his reaction.  
  
She watched him struggle to open his eyes, as his fingers curled around hers with all the strength he could find. Eyelashes fluttered against his skin as he strove to complete his task, only to be met with the violent glare of the hospital lights which made him seek to close them again. She could only smile, despite the anticipation, as she watched him swallow a few times. His eyes, now open once more and adjusted to the brightness, finally focussed on her, his brow furrowed as if he was fighting his way through the fog of drugs to comprehend the situation. His hand still remained in hers, something that gave her hope.  
  
"Parker?" There was disbelief in his voice, as if, despite what his eyes and ears were telling him, he couldn't quite believe she was there.  
  
She could only nod her head as her thumb began to unconsciously rub the back of his hand. She had to swallow a few times, to push the rising fear in her stomach down, before she could speak. "How are you feeling?" The words sounded woefully inadequate the moment they left her mouth.  
  
He didn't answer immediately, just stared at her almost dumbfounded. His eyes flickered around her, orientating himself with a room that was obviously not associated with The Centre, then strayed back to her eyes. She figured there must be a multitude of questions on the tip of his tongue; mostly concerning The Centre and her presence, but they never appeared. Maybe the fact she was sat at his side, not holding a gun, wearing the same clothes he had last seen her in swayed him. He stared at her for another beat, a hint of uncertainty still present, before answering. "Like I was run over by one of those double decker buses."   
  
Her smile dropped slightly and her thumb ceased its movements, perturbed once more by the very thought that it could have been a lot worse. "It was a car," she uttered painfully, the memory of the event no less viscious or powerful as it ran through her thoughts again - even with the passage of time and an apparently fortunate outcome. Memories she thought would now be exorcised. Her features must have given her away as Jarod now stared at her intently, his own misgivings seemingly forgotten and cautiousness thrown to the wind.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, his thumb now rubbing against her hand.  
  
She managed another quick nod of her head in reply as a rogue tear slipped down one cheek. She wasn't sure if it was evoked by her memories of the day or by his obvious concern. He should have been on edge, concerned for his own welfare. She clammed up. Now that the moment of truth had arrived she wanted more time. "I should get the nurse...," she said, rising from her seat, brushing the tear away with her free hand. Her other hand remained locked with his and he held onto her, gently tugging her back to her seat. She sat back down on the hard, uncomfortable chair and avoided his eyes. This was harder for her than it had been telling Sydney, than it had been to admit to herself. This time there was a chance that she could end up hurt.  
  
"Parker," he chided gently.  
  
She stared at their joined hands for a moment. If she were to objectively look at her relationship with Jarod she would have seen all she needed to know; she would have known no fear, she would have held no doubts. She drew her gaze up to his warm brown eyes, willing herself to come clean. Something she had once heard rang in her ears: 'You're either dipping your toe, or you're drowning'. She'd sat on the edge of the pool for too long, it was time to see if she could swim. "I thought I'd lost you."  
  
"You've never lost me," he replied easily, his eyes staring into hers with such fervency that she was taken slightly aback. Some of her doubts began to ease, he'd swam right over to her.  
  
"Jarod," she began hesitantly, "I..." she paused, mesmerised by his gentle strokes on her hand and falling ever deeper into his gaze. She didn't manage to finish the sentence.  
  
He raised one eyebrow intrigued as he struggled to sit himself upright, wincing as he did so, injuries reminding him of his fight with the car. He only managed to rise a few inches up his bed, partly due to his reluctance to relinquish his hold on either Parker's hand or her gaze. His head now a little further up the pillow, and now vaguely aware of the garish colour of the hospital gown he was clad in, he waited to see if she would continue. "Parker," he prompted after a moment or two.  
  
"Why did you smile at me?" she blurted out, finally vanquishing what little fear that remained. "Before the car... you just smiled at me." She felt she needed to know what exactly had lain behind that action. It had been that smile that had changed everything and she wanted to know that she hadn't misread the situation, that she hadn't put all of her money on one roll of the dice. That he was actually saying what she thought he was saying.  
  
"Because the last person, the very last vision, I was going to lay my eyes on was you... And I had the opportunity to tell you one last time how I feel."  
  
She swallowed hard, keeping tears of joy at bay with a struggle. "That turning point," she whispered quietly, a hesitant smile appearing at the corners of her mouth, "Is your offer still open?"  
  
He smiled, a brilliantly wide and beautiful smile, as he had done earlier in the day. A smile that had flipped her world upside down and was now doing something similar to her stomach. "Always," he replied softly.  
  
She gave in to her earlier impulse and ran her hand lightly down his cheek, eyes still locked on his. There was no need for any further words, the deal silently agreed by eye contact alone; all that remained was to seal it. She leant towards him slowly, hand now cupping his cheek, and closed the gap between them. She brushed her mouth against his, her stomach fluttering wildly, lips tingling. A long, sweet, much yearned for kiss ensued, the silence only punctuated by the machine monitoring Jarod's heartbeat, the beeps increasing in pace. Had her own heart been subject to such scrutiny the results would have been the same. 


	5. five

i) Thanks to Phenyx, leochick, ICD, mfkngst, winnievbt, Michelle, and QueenTrione for reviewing the last chapter. Big thanks to everyone who's left a review for this story, I know I say this every time but it's good to hear that people are enjoying your work and that you've been able to capture their interest.  
  
ii) This is the last part; you would have had it sooner but I've had a somewhat trying time at work recently (oh to be independently wealthy). I'm going to leave the door slightly ajar on this - I may come back to it later...  
  
Epilogue  
  
It took a couple of rings of the phone to break through his concentration, one more for him to set to one side the object of his attention and pick up the receiver. Not too long ago he'd have literally dropped everything immediately in his haste to answer the call; yet too many times he had done such a thing only to be disappointed by the voice at the other end of the line. It was for similar reasons that he no longer rushed to open the morning's mail either. "This is Sydney." He spoke his usual greeting with no expectations which made the response, when it came, all the sweeter.  
  
"Hello Syd," a warm voice replied.  
  
He took in a sharp breath, "Miss Parker!" He couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face as a sense of relief washed over him. It had been too long since he'd heard her voice; he'd missed his young colleague immensely since he'd left her at the hospital. He'd been reluctant to leave her, to leave either of them. She'd had such a rollercoaster ride of a day, had searched her soul, had faced her feelings and he was glad that he'd been there for her. Glad she'd allowed him to be there for her. But he'd had to leave, had felt it was important to cover their tracks as soon as possible.  
  
"How are you Miss Parker?" He couldn't hide the joy from his voice. When she had not contacted him immediately he'd taken it as a good sign; he felt that if she had not been able to 'reconnect' with Jarod, and he believed there was only a very small chance of that happening, she'd have called straight away. However after a month or so had passed without word his concern had grown - to the point that he'd cajoled Broots into checking Centre records to make sure it was not an enforced silence. Broots' extensive delves into the mainframe had turned up nothing other than Raines' distaste at her desertion, a point of view the chairman expressed incessantly, his anger never waning. So Sydney chose to believe that there were other, less nefarious, reasons for the lack of communications, and had let his expectations of contact dwindle accordingly. But he still worried.  
  
"I'm good," she replied. It didn't matter that he couldn't see her face, he didn't need to - he could hear the smile that lay there and it was a million miles away from the last time he'd spoken to her.  
  
He drew his head down, his free hand cupping his mouth in a vain attempt to shield the conversation. He glanced around his office, at the files and the books, knowing full well the likelihood that the eyes and ears of The Centre were already onto him was high. They'd been watching him since he'd returned without Miss Parker, closer than they ever had. Lyle in particular, initially pissed that he'd let them slip through his fingers to begin with, scrutinised him constantly, always insinuating that he knew Sydney had something to do with Parker's disappearance but never actually able to prove anything.   
  
There'd been rumours regarding Miss Parker's absence; Broots had kept him appraised of the underground gossip - most of it akin to the content of tabloid trash. Yet no one made the connection to the missing pretender, such was her apparent hatred for him, but he did wonder if he was really the only one who'd seen through that act, who had suspected there was more to it. Broots' disbelief on hearing the news was more likely to be attributable to his own feelings towards Miss Parker, it was Lyle and Raines who concerned him most. Jarod, on the other hand, had been off The Centre's radar for long enough for most employees to speculate he was finally tired of the chase - or was dead. Sydney saw no reason to comment on such rumours, setting only Broots straight on a few facts.   
  
He sat back in his chair, convinced the conversation was already being recorded in some dark recess of The Centre and that there was little he could do to prevent that, and took on an almost relaxed manner, enjoying the moment just a little too much. "Raines was not happy with your vanishing act."  
  
"I don't care Syd."   
  
He grinned again at her response, that spark he had always knew existed was now gleaming. "Freedom seems to suit you Miss Parker. How does it feel?" He wanted to ask other questions; where she was, how was Jarod, how were they getting on together. But of course he couldn't. Instead he listened intently to her responses, hoping to pick up some answers that way.  
  
"It feels..." there was a pause, as if she was searching for the appropriate adjective, the right phrase. "It feels wonderful," she eventually said, adding, "You should try it some time." Her voice lost some of its levity in that last sentence.  
  
"It's too late for me," he replied evenly, intrigued by the change to her tone. Thoughts of leaving had crossed his mind, more frequently than ever since she'd gone, but he still had some other souls to look out for. And being at The Centre was his best connection to both her and Jarod, they could always find him there.  
  
There was a shorter pause, "It's never too late, Sydney."  
  
Again her voice was missing its earlier lightness. It was a subtle change, one he hoped those listening in would not pick up on. But what was she trying to tell him. He didn't have the chance to question her further, not that she'd have been able to tell him directly anyway, as she'd hung up on him, the dial tone now burning into his ear. Hadn't even said goodbye, not unlike how Jarod ended his calls. He smiled at that thought, the receiver still in his hand, for a moment longer than he suspected he should have. He put down the phone, wiping his face of all emotion. The inquisition would arrive shortly and he would need to employ, once more, the neutral expression that had seen him through for so long.  
  
She slipped the phone into her pocket, staring ahead at Jarod. He stood on the other side of the road, the only adult in line for an ice cream. She had kept her focus on him for the duration of her conversation with Sydney, he had turned around every now and then to throw her a reassuring grin that had kept her on track - she wanted to tell Syd everything. She felt she needed to explain her silence, to thank him for everything he'd done but she couldn't, she knew that. Even with freedom there were still secrets to be kept. She had meant to call him sooner, to keep her promise to him, but she'd been distracted.  
  
To look at Jarod now it was hard to believe that she'd come so close to losing him. The break in his leg had been clean, six weeks in a cast had been sufficient time to heal. He'd made a good recovery overall, the doctors had been pleased with his progress and her fears had proved unfounded. They'd kept him in the hospital as a precaution; he'd sustained a fractured skull and they were concerned that he'd been unconscious at one point. She'd spent that first night with him, reluctant to let go of someone she had only just found. The next morning, aching all over after spending the night dozing on a hard chair, she'd returned to the hotel she'd checked into less than twenty four hours before, glad that she had at least one change of clothes. There was no sign of Sydney, the clerk had told her he'd checked out the day before, and a brief flutter of panic had risen in her; she was walking down an unfamiliar path but she returned to the hospital, quashing such thoughts. That night Jarod had insisted she go back to the hotel and she didn't refuse.   
  
Jarod had discharged himself on the third day, against his doctor's wishes, frustrated by his lack of mobility and loss of independence Now in her care Parker found that she was no Florence Nightingale, but it didn't matter as Jarod was not an ideal patient either. He constantly disobeyed the doctor's, and her own, orders to rest and she found the best way to keep him still was to talk. He'd asked her, that first night as they had laid sprawled on her hotel bed, having had no time to make alternative arrangements, about her life: the years after she'd disappeared from his life and before she'd started chasing him. She'd always assumed he'd known more than he should have about her past exploits, his endless probing into her past had annoyed her often enough, but he had listened enthralled, as if every word was being heard for the first time. In return he told her about the pretends The Centre never discovered, about the people he had met. That he'd come back to Scotland on a tip about his mother only to find he'd been about a month too late.   
  
His incapacity kept them in Scotland for some time; they continued that cosy existence, renting a small house on the outskirts of the city, talking, watching bad t.v. and rekindling their friendship. The late night talks that had peppered the chase continued, and in the same manner; with no possibility of anyone listening in and admissions of their feelings now ousted they still skirted around their attraction, an unspoken agreement between them to tread carefully. She had found her own apprehension strange, as this was never something she'd shied away from. She'd taken to jogging daily, leaving Jarod propped up at his laptop, initially to quell the doubts that greeted her every morning; she dealt with the changes her own way, Jarod his. Until one day she came to the realisation that it wasn't about her attraction to him – it was something deeper - admitting her feelings for him had been the easy part, acting upon them brought a whole new realm of possibilities. And with this realisation had come a wave of certainty. As her own apprehension started to fade the jogging became a way to deal with her growing frustration at being so close to Jarod yet never close enough. Jarod was taking longer to come to the same conclusions, something that amazed her as she had always been the reluctant one. She was never known for her patience but she ended up surprising herself; they would kiss, snuggle together, talk intimately - she could wait.   
  
Ice cream paid for, he made his way back to her. They were currently staying in a once popular coastal town that had, quite frankly, seen better days; the old Miss Parker would have wrinkled her nose in disgust, yet she didn't care - The Centre were still unaware as to their location and that was all that mattered. The sun still shone down with some intensity, even though it was after six o'clock, bathing Jarod in a golden light. He edged toward the road, casting her a mischievous grin as he did so before quickly diverting his movements towards the pedestrian crossing instead. She shook her head, smiling to herself as she tracked his graceful movements.  
  
One night, not long after he'd discharged himself from the hospital and the first night out of the hotel, they'd talked about that day once more, the day she'd had her 'epithany'. He had suggested it was all her fault that the car had hit him, a wry grin on his face. She'd momentarily felt a stab of pain at that thought, his words unintentionally hurting her. He'd noticed the change to her demeanour and had quickly added that it was because he couldn't stop staring at her; that it had been too long since he'd seen her that everything else seemed somehow less important. He'd been sprawled across the sofa, one of the few pieces of furniture included with the house, his leg propped up, and his honesty had once more touched her to the core. She'd quickly leant across from the other side to kiss him.  
  
"Finally learnt how to cross the road eh, genius?" she drawled as he approached her, ice cream in one hand already half eaten. The sun shone on his face, she could feel the dwindling warmth at her back, and hear the rhythmic, calming, motions of the sea behind her. Just as she'd told Syd, freedom felt wonderful to her. She tried to recall exactly why she had fought this for so long but the reasons eluded her, long since forgotten. There was only one obstacle in their path, and it was a sizeable one at that.  
  
"I'm a quick study," he grinned, taking another bite of his ice cream, almost finishing it off. "Did you tell him?" he asked casually after swallowing.  
  
"In a roundabout way," she replied. Once Jarod's cast had been removed, they'd left the little house that had become their home. Jarod had become increasingly restless staying in one spot. She had tried her best to diffuse some of his fears, arguing that The Centre would have found them already if Sydney had failed to deter them, but she couldn't fight years of instinct. And, at the back of her mind, she was worried too: The Centre had a knack of removing the people she loved from her life. With funds diverted from her ex employers they had hired a car and headed South, Parker driving and Jarod navigating, after a couple of days of stopping regularly when Jarod had diverted her to yet another must see attraction, they had ended up in the Lake District - an area of natural beauty in the North of England that attracted a wealth of visitors annually. She took it all in her stride and enjoyed herself; she rarely had time to stop and appreciate the world around her and through Jarod's eyes it apppeared infinitely better than she remembered. They'd blended in with other tourists drawn by the unusually warm weather. It was there, on a boat tour around Lake Windermere, that Jarod had proposed 'dealing with The Centre once and for all'. She'd readily acquiesced. Jarod had several ideas on how to do this, thoughts he'd toyed with since his escape but it was only with Parker's input that they'd come up with their 'masterplan'. A way to ensure their freedom.  
  
He nodded slowly, a faint smile now gracing his lips. "So Mrs Dawson, are you ready?" he asked seriously.  
  
She smiled easily, nodding her head and gazing into his twinkling eyes. They'd used other pseudonyms on their journey but 'Dawson' had stuck, becoming a kind of in joke between the two of them. There had been a moment of confusion at the hospital when the nurse had addressed them as such, Parker having forgotten to relate this small fact to Jarod in favour of other, more pressing, matters. And he'd laughed once the nurse had left - no doubt putting Jarod's confusion down to the accident - when she'd confessed that when asked for a name she'd settled for one displayed on a shop sign in the distance.   
  
"We start tomorrow," she confirmed, not willing to start worrying about the possible fall out just yet. She closed what little gap remained between them, her hands running up the front of his t-shirt and meeting behind his neck. "I have plans for you tonight," she said seductively as her lips searched for his. It was a sweet kiss, all the more for the ice cream she could taste on his lips. He held one arm out to the side, ice cream clasped in his hand, the other snaked around her hips, resting on the small of her back. As the kiss deepened he tossed what remained of his snack to one side - Miss Parker easily winning the battle for his attention - a flock of seagulls cleaning up his litter in a matter of seconds, and he brought his now free hand to join its opposite.  
  
They'd become lovers at the Lakes. The moment they had started moving Jarod had visibly relaxed, and in letting down his guard in that respect his remaining hesitancy seemed to diminish as well. In some respects she wondered if he had not planned at least some of the events whilst they were still in Scotland: Jarod had rented a house overlooking the Lakes with ease considering the busy time of the year. She'd stared out of the huge bay window that first night, the sun low in the sky and bathing the view in an orange glow. Jarod had stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin resting on her shoulder. She'd caught his eyes in the faint reflection bestowed on the window by a small lamp in the corner of the room; his gaze lay on her not the vista ahead of them and their unspoken agreement was broken.  
  
Reluctantly pulling apart he gazed into her eyes, hands now resting on her hips. "I love it when you have plans for me." Two seagulls remained near them, fighting over the last remains of Jarod's ice cream; they only parted when Jarod and Parker began to walk their way, hands clasped together, heading for their hotel. 


End file.
